Mischeif Managed
by Qtness. Quill
Summary: Harry gets into some risky mischeif with Ron during a dull class. Slash: HPRW


**MISCHEIF MANAGED**

**Unfulfilled Desires**

"Oi! Ron! RON! We're late, we have to get up NOW!" Harry yelled as he yanked the blankets off his serenely sleeping friend. "Wha-?" Ron mumbled, sitting up confused. Bright sunlight was streaming in the windows. Every one else in the dorm was gone. "We've got five minutes to get to Binns'" Ron blinked his bleary eyes to find his best friend shoving himself haphazardly into his clothes. It took a moment for the information to register. "C'mon, get UP!"

"I'm up, I'm up…." Ron answered grumpily. He stood, swaying slightly on the spot, clad only in his pale blue boxers and sporting a magnificent morning wood. Harry paused after his robes dropped around his shoulders and stared. "I can see that," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "Maybe we don't have to go just yet. Maybe we can skip History of Magic… I can think of something else I'd rather spend my time on. Something a lot more fun…" The corners of Harry's mouth turned up slowly as he approached Ron beginning to feel quite frisky. Ron pushed him away rather gruffly. He didn't see Harry's expression fall to disappointment mixed with just a little hurt.

"I'm a prefect. I can't just skive off lessons whenever I feel like it." Ron snapped. He hurriedly buttoned his shirt, wrongly so that one side of his collar stood up funny, and made a sloppy mess of knotting his tie. "Where're my pants? WHERE ARE MY PANTS!" He screeched frantically flinging belongings out of his trunk. "Don't just stand there, help me look!" "Well, if we really _are_ trying to make it to class…" Harry answered in a defeated tone. He started a half-hearted attempt to help his best mate look for his trousers when his eyes spied the clock on the nightstand. "There's no time! Just put on your robes and be done with it!" Ron yelped when he saw the clock and caught the robes Harry chucked at him. He threw them on and stuffed his feet in his shoes. "OK, I'm ready." Harry raised an eyebrow, "Uh, you sure?" An exasperated "yes" reached Harry's ears as Ron was gathering up his school bag. Ron turned and saw Harry just standing still staring at him.

"What now?" the fiery redhead demanded impatiently. "Professor McGonagall in her underwear. Professor McGonagall in her underwear," chanted Harry with an impish grin on his face. "What the bloody hell are you on about!" bellowed a bewildered Ron. "That." Harry simply pointed to the obvious bulge that was slightly bobbing at the front of Ron's robes. "Ah, bugger! That thing's a bloody menace!" Ron grumbled, pushing at it. Harry laughed. "C'mon, we're gonna have to run for it." They took the stairs two at a time, each muttering the "McGonagall's underwear" refrain repeatedly under their breath. They reached the history classroom, chests heaving and pulses racing, with not a moment to spare. They paused outside the doors. "All right, Ron?" Both boys glanced down. "Yeah, all right now." They took a gulp of air and entered the room.

Hermione gave them a scathing look as they slumped into their seats at their usual table. "One more second and you'd be late, possibly losing points for Gryffindor." Her eyes traveled the disheveled appearance of her two friends. Harry had a hint of stubble on his sweaty upper lip and Ron's collar was all wonky, with one end of his poorly knotted tie hanging out the neckline of his robes. The pair had hopelessly pillow-mussed hair, but of course, in Harry's case, that was completely normal. "Overslept again, I see. How can you guys concentrate on the lecture if you're hungry? You missed breakfast again." "Don't remind me," moaned Ron, massaging his empty stomach. Professor Binns floated silently through the chalkboard as the bell rang. "Shh!" Hermione hissed over at the boys as if they had been making a ruckus while straightening the already immaculate array of parchment, book, inkbottle, and quill (plus a back-up quill) in front of her.

Binns' lectures were always the height of tedium and today was no exception. As his wheezy voice droned on, Harry felt his attention slipping away. There are so many more productive things I could be doing, he thought. Quidditch…practicing nonverbal spells (which he wasn't having too much success at so far)…. Ron…. Hexing Slytherins…. Well, he thought, he couldn't really hex any Slytherins at the moment, they had this class with the Hufflepuffs and he didn't want to hex any of them. Besides, if he made Malfoy sprout horns or turned Crabbe and Goyle into baboons (not that anyone could possibly tell the difference) in a class it would be all too obvious who did it since everyone knew about the long-standing feud between that slimy trio and the excellent one he belonged to. No, he reasoned, something like that would have to take place away from any teacher.

Harry's thoughts drifted back to Ron. Specifically, how he had looked that morning. Well that, and the fact that there was nothing in between that vision in boxers and himself right now but a sheer black barrier of school robes. He felt a little jolt and then a tingle. He stealthily billowed his robes over his lap. A small smile graced his lips but he was still frustrated that neither of their cravings had been satisfied. He peeked over at his best friends; Ron had his usual glazed look and past him on his left Hermione was feverishly scratching away on her second scroll of parchment with her quill.

I wish we coulda fooled around before class, Harry thought wistfully, then I might be able to concentrate better. And Ron wouldn't let me diddle him, said we had to be in class…Maybe…No…Do I dare? Oh, it would serve him right! Harry inwardly chuckled at his naughtiness. He'd get him good! Teach _him_ to decline such a tempting offer….

**Wand-play**

Harry tried to recall what he'd read of the book Fred and George had given him for Christmas. They had sniggered heartily when they gave it to him, telling him to open the gift away from prying eyes. When he was alone he'd looked through it and blushed furiously: "The Magic of Eros". It had spells and charms for everything romantic and sexy—enhancement charms for personal prowess, love potions, spells for conjuring items to aid in love making and so much more. He seriously doubted that the twins thought he would ever be using any of this stuff on their own brother but it was, indeed, coming in handy. Harry was torn for a moment since he'd planned on revealing some of these new found skills on Ron for the anniversary of their first snog coming up in a couple months but then decided this would be just as much of a surprise. Plus, he couldn't help himself and stop his horny mischief now. He felt a heat and a pressure in his pants and was glad he'd bunched up his robes in his lap. His restless heart pumped faster.

He took a furtive survey of the room. The entire class had its usual appearance of general stupor. Well, except for Lavender, who was pointing out something to Hannah and Parvati in a magazine she had concealed in a textbook, Justin who was writing with pompous flourishes of his quill (undoubtedly still trying to live up to his prefects badge) and Hermione who was also diligently taking notes if only for her own sense of personal achievement. Good, no one was gazing this way. He nonchalantly moved his wand under his palm on the tabletop and shifted it until it was pointing at Ron. OK, he thought, this will be good practice for nonverbal spells. Now what was that one? He hadn't really paid it much attention since he had thought of it as being designed for only aging wizards. Him and Ron had never had any trouble in that department (unless you call being too over eager sometimes to be trouble!). He thought a bit, scratched his head staring off into space, then remembered. Hermione glanced over just then with a proud and smug expression on her face. She must think I'm reflecting on the lecture, he mused.

Harry screwed up his concentration and grasped the handle of his wand. OK, here goes…. _Tumescens Phallus_. He wasn't sure if anything happened. Thinking solely of what was in Ron's boxers he tried again, adding some more force to his thoughts: _Tumescens Phallus!_ There was a quick intake of breath next to him. Harry smiledsecretly to himself. He snuck a glimpse out of the corner of his eye and saw that Ron hadslid his hands down his thighs to make a tent of his robes from his knees to his neckline.Ron blew out a sigh like "not again" and contemplated the ceiling in consternation. Harry hadto suppress a chortle. He thought of the other charms and enchantments he'd looked upin the Eros book. Those came back easier since he'd tried some on himself (in the weehours of the morning when everyone else was asleep and before him and Ron had startedexperimenting with anything that heavy).

Focusing hard on Ron's erection, he concentrated next on the flap opening of his boxers. _Textilium Unencumbra! _He silently screamed in his own mind. Ron's eyes bugged out and he pitched forward slapping his hands on the table. Hermione looked over, apparently annoyed at the distracting noise and went back to her note taking with a "Hmph!" Harry was fairly sure that he'd freed his friend from the flimsy cloth beneath his robes. He had to stifle a snicker at the embarrassed expression on Ron's face as the flustered redhead's palms, once flat upon the table, had curled up into damp clenched fists that crushed the blank piece of parchment that lay before him.

OK, now it got a little more complex. Gripping his wand by the base, still pointing back and to his left towards Ron, he gathered up a bunch of mental energy: _Manusceptora Tactilus! _Harry saw a single red spark emit from the tip of his wand and land softly on the front of Ron's robe tent, sinking within. Harry twirled his trusty strip of wood containing a phoenix feather in his fingers, rolling it back and forth; Ron's face flushed and he swallowed hard bobbing his adam's apple. Harry smiled thinly through his mental exertion, riveting his eyes on the wonderfully magic object in his hand. As he rubbed his thumb along its smoothness he felt it grow warm. Ron, seeming to have realized that this might not be a phenomenon entirely of his own physiology now, looked inquiringly at Harry. Harry shot back with a wicked smirk, put his other hand on the wand as well and gave it a vicious yet gentle squeeze. Ron's eyes widened in surprise and his mouth formed a silent, "Oh!"

So, Harry began his manipulations with the wand's shaft in earnest; He caressed it, stroked it, fondled it, tantalized its surface as he grazed it with a feather-light touch, and teased his thumb over the butt end of it -- all the while still pretending to listen to the teacher. Harry was fully enjoying watch Ron squirm. Ron agitatedly ruffled his fingers through his long tangled red hair, he pulled nervously on his over-tight tie trying to get more air, he attempted to mask faint gasps and grunts that escaped him as normal throat-clearing and he writhed around uncomfortably in his chair. Despite Ron's discomfiture and internal struggle to remain outwardly calm, he didn't tell Harry to stop. Hermione kept firing Ron irritated looks while trying to keep up with her notes.

Finally, Harry thought of something especially reckless that might put Ron out of his exquisite agony. Keeping one hand carefully on his wand, he reached sneakily into his bag and pulled out a sugar-quill. He placed the fluffy fake feather over the tip of his wand and concentrated on the nonverbal spell he wanted: _Fellati Lingua! _It glowed pale purple for a moment, then went back to its original dusty white. Harry's features cracked into a grin as he delicately picked up the disguised confection with both hands. Ron heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that Harry had abandoned the wand. He didn't notice the sugar-quill drawing closer and closer to his friend's mouth.

**Crazy Quill**

"BLOODY HELL!" Ron's sudden outburst startled the whole class into gaping at him. Harry looked over in mock innocence, the tip of the candy quill on his lips. "Yes, it _was_ quite a shocking and exciting thing that had arisen," wheezed Professor Binns' ethereal voice through the now alert silence, "So in the goblin rebellion of 1842, both factions, the first led by Gubindorn the Great and the other…." Soon the monotone voice was once again tuned out. Hermione, disgusted by the rude interruption, turned her back on the boys. Harry stuck the quill further in his mouth and twiddled the tip with his tongue. Ron trembled and groaned. Hermione whirled around in her seat and whispered crossly, "Honestly Ronald! If you can't sit still and quit your fidgeting, at least put your head down and go to sleep so I can take notes properly!" Ron folded his arms on the table and sunk his head low. He turned to Harry, his lips twitching at the corners, eyes narrowed and mouthed, "I'm gonna get you for this." Harry raised his eyebrows with the quill on his lower lip and mouthed back, "Promise?" Ron's forehead landed with a resigned thud on his arms; His whole body gave a shudder as Harry put the quill back in his mouth.

Since Harry knew Ron wasn't really angry, he continued playing with the sugar-quill; he pressed his lips over his teeth and wiggled them, he sucked, he slid his tongue up and down it while it was well within his mouth, he nipped gently around the top, he exploded out hot panting exhalations that quivered the fluff of the feather and chilled where it was moistened. Meanwhile, Ron's breathing became deep and heavy but his ears continued to blush in ever deepening shades of crimson. Hermione rolled her eyes towards the boys with a frown, scowling, probably thinking that Ron had indeed fallen asleep. Harry knew better though, he'd had enough experience with what Ron's muffled arousal sounded like and what his genuine snores were. Ron tried to keep as still and quiet as possible while he endured wave after wave of sensual delight. His body was wracked with fevered shivers, he bit back whimpers and whines in the back of his throat as his ecstasy dizzied higher, he gave in to the ardent pulsating and throbbing of his member (thankfully hidden under his robes) and surrendered to the sensations Harry was stimulating in him.

A spasm wrenched through the redhead's rigidly tensed body. At that moment, Harry noticed the quill jerking erratically and the secretion of a glob of sweet syrup spurted out the tip. "Mmmm," Harry hummed on the tip as he licked it and the vibrations caused a convulsive tremor in his friend. Harry gloated triumphantly—mission accomplished! "_Finite,_" Harry muttered to his sugar quill, ending the incantation. Ron lifted his head and looked at his friend through dazed blue eyes, meeting teasing green, and gave a weak smile. They both looked down with satisfied faces but Ron's expression suddenly became horror-stricken. There was a huge, very noticeable wet mark spreading on the front of his robes! Ron snapped both his elbows together in front of his chest, turning the deepest shade of red Harry had seen yet. Harry, knowing it was all his fault, thought of various cleaning and vanishing spells he'd heard of. There was "_Scourgify_" but that often involved soap bubbles and they didn't need that…. Finally, with an ironic inward smile, Harry thought of the one which Snape always invoked to vanish his difficultly brewed potions without a trace; he thought this particularly well-won "potion" deserved it.

Just then, the bell rang for dismissal. Everybody was gathering up their things to go to lunch. Ron remained sitting, "Help me!" he mouthed and gestured to Harry in a panic. "_Evanesco,_" said Harry, pretending he was just picking up his wand to put it away. Hermione whirled around from buckling the clasp on her bag. "What did you say?" Ron gulped and looked down. Harry, taken aback for a moment, recovered nicely and replied, "I, erm, said, 'Uh, let's go.'"

Ron looked immensely relieved at his now dry robes and made to stand up. His knees wobbled under him and he grabbed the back of his chair for support. "See Ronald, if you rose early enough and had time to properly get ready you wouldn't miss breakfast and get all faint," chided Hermione sagely. "Er, yeah, you're right…." He replied in a shaky voice and flicked Harry a funny look, who stifled a laugh. "You owe me one, mate," he said in a hushed tone, as everyone was busy packing up and leaving. "For which?" the sated redhead whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "For everything. Perhaps you could help me with a rather hard situation I'm having?" he quietly winked back. Ron smiled broadly with a glint in his eye. "Deal! Only let's eat first. I'm starved!"

**True Companions**

As they trooped down the corridors to the Great Hall for lunch, Hermione started in with her usual remonstrations. "Why don't you ever take notes in History of Magic? Am I the only one who pays attention?" "_Harry's_ the one who wanted to ditch! _I_ was the one who made him come today!" Ron accused loudly, trying to deflect the blame off himself. "Did not," muttered Harry in sham indignation, playing at the double entendre that only the boys knew about. "Later, I promise. Maybe I'll get you back when you least expect it!" Ron murmured behind the bustling walk of their best girlfriend, so Hermione, thankfully, missed those private comments.

"What would you two do if I didn't let you guys see my lecture notes?" she threw over her shoulder. "It's a wonder I got anything done, what with all your fussing and flopping about Ron, AND falling asleep. And YOU, Harry, at least you feign concentration, but you can't be bothered to write anything down? And then there you go, sucking and slurping on that stupid quill from Honeyduke's…. Like a child with a lolly-- isn't it all just a bit silly? I mean, why not just get down to the job at hand? That way you'll have time for more pleasurable activities later on…."

Harry and Ron had caught up to her by then and smirked at each other over Hermione's head. "We just don't have your incredible powers of concentration, 'Mione," Harry said, putting an arm around her shoulders in an attempt to soothe her irritation with the two boys. "Yeah," Ron piped up, "We don't have _nearly_ the intense intellectual capacity you've got," putting his arm around her other side. "Or the staggeringly keen insight and cleverness," chimed in Harry, giving her a squeeze. "Oh, and don't forget the superior self-discipline, nobody's got any finer!" Ron cried, rising to the spirit of the praise.

"Oh, you two…." Hermione blushed and looked down, somewhat mollified. "So, you guys admit that you're doomed without me? That you need me?" "Are you kidding!" Ron spluttered. "We're rubbish without you! Of course we need you. You're our best friend, and I'm not just talking about copying notes!" Hermione looked from one to the other, evidently pleased. "Yeah," said Harry agreeing and nodding fervently, "We'd be lost without you, you anchor us. You're the brains and sense of this crazy outfit!"

"But you have to admit, that without us, your life would be too dull for words," Ron continued. Hermione laughed, "Well, yeah…" "And without Harry's completely _mental_ risk-taking—" Hermione cut him off, "_Bravery_. It just sounds better, more honest and noble." "Yeah, Ok," Ron conceded, "Bravery. And his skills at flying and Seeking are legendary, so he brings glory to all Gryffindors!" Harry laughed sheepishly. "And you make sure we're all protected and safe." Hermione said in a subdued, thoughtful voice.

"Just like you guys need me because I'm good at…." Ron's voice trailed off and his face crumpled and fell. Harry and Hermione quickly looked at each other. "Wizard chess," Harry blurted out like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We couldn't get out of all our narrow scrapes if you couldn't come up with brilliant strategy off the cuff." Ron perked up a little. "Yeah," Hermione added, "And don't forget the fun and unconditional love." Ron blushed with pride. "We can't get through the dark times without heart and soul, " she said, gazing up into the tall redhead's face. Ron blushed deeper. "And laughter, and loyalty." Harry conveyed with emotion as they entered the Great Hall all arm in arm like some strange three-headed, six-legged beast.

Hermione and Harry sat opposite Ron at their Gryffindor table and watched while the ravenous redhead was somehow able to shove forkfuls of casserole into his mouth with his right hand and simultaneously ladle servings from the tureen onto the others' plates with his left. They both regarded him with amusement for a moment until Hermione uttered in tender affection, "Know what else you're good at Ron?" He paused and looked up with bursting cheeks, "Wha-?", spitting a few flecks onto the table by accident. "LUNCH!" And they all had a hearty and amiable laugh as they tucked in.


End file.
